


Sleeping Beast and the Beauty

by tevinterhexe



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Attempt at Humor, Community: dragonage_kink, Crack, Crossdressing, Disney Parody, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Romance, custome kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4160214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tevinterhexe/pseuds/tevinterhexe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A demon turned everyone into disney princesses.</p><p>Dorian saves Bull from eternal slumber.</p><p>Also, there's a dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Beast and the Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't choose the title, the title chose me. Sincerest apologies.

“Well, shit,” Varric and the Inquisitor declare, perfectly in sync (but not singing again, thank the Maker!), as the Tamassran starts growing.

They have to slay a dragon in Bull’s vision.

Of course, they do.

Maybe he _should_ have changed into something else when the Inquisitor suggested it, he thinks - all the while trying to quench the flame that’s eating away at the extensive gown and underlying petticoat.

He also wishes he’d followed Cullen’s example and gotten rid of the high heels, but no, not him, not Dorian of House Pavus, he just had to insist on the spectacle.

At least, _his_ shoes weren’t made out of glass.

‘ _Look at you, being all positive and optimistic!_ ’ Never underestimate his predilection for the use of sarcasm. His snark doesn’t discriminate.

Dorian sighs and barely dodges the next fireball.

“Kindly get this thing off my back!”

Which, he guesses, is easier said than done with one of their two shield-warriors still locked in an impenetrable tower and the other fighting a war to protect some empire against an invasion of qunari knock-offs.

“You know what they say about dragons and gold, Sparkler.”

Yes, definitely should have changed.

  


+++

  


“Duck!”

Not being one for questioning their Inquisitor’s wisdom, that’s exactly what Dorian does.

With some force and a loud whooping noise a tail passes overhead, taking with it the crowns of some nearby rose bushes, thorns flying everywhere.

He notices a stinging on his right cheek and prays for the dragon’s sake that it doesn’t scar afterwards or so help him, he will come back here, raise her from the dead and kill her all over again - prompted he somehow manages the required killing for the first time before she burns them all to a crisp.

Bull better appreciate all the effort once this is over.

  


+++

  


Sparks gather at his fingertips. Dorian concentrates on the spell, frowning. Oh, he hates the frowning. At this rate he’s going to have wrinkles mare his otherwise perfect face. The horror! Aged before his time.

Can’t be helped though. Casting a spell of this magnitude is difficult enough, but without a staff… he will make it work. Somehow.

Dorian takes a second to curse the Chargers under his breath. Worst fairy godparents of all time. (Though seeing Krem, Dalish and Grim with pointy hats and little wings was still less bizarre than Rocky, Skinner and Stitches as household items - a clock, a teapot and a candelabra respectively, if you could believe it!) He’d taken one look at the sword and dropped it where he stood. Dalish outright laughed in his face when he demanded she give him her staff instead.

“‘ _It’s a bow_ ’ my arse!”

Saving the princess? Obviously! He’s a gentleman.

Fighting a dragon? Taken under consideration.

But making a fool of himself in the process? No can do.

He casts a barrier for good measure then takes a step forward, raising his hands in challenge. The spell bounces right of the dragon’s scaly belly.

Would have been too easy, wouldn’t it?

“Keep her distracted! We’re bringing the bridge down under her.”

Thankfully the Inquisitor can be counted on when Dorian is all out of ideas, exhibiting the excellent leadership qualities--

Wait!

“The bridge I am standing on?”

“You have 20 seconds.”

“And to think I called you friend once!”

“15 seconds.”

Dorian hikes up his skirts and runs.

At least Bull’s not here to make a joke about it.

  


+++

  


True love’s kiss. That settles that then. Someone really could have told him that _before_ they decided to engage a giant dragon to save the Iron Bull.

“Oh well, we made an honest attempt, can’t fault us for failing now. We came. We saw. We tried. We can come back later once we weakened the demon’s influence further.”

When Dorian turns to leave three angry fairies block his way to the door - arms crossed over chests, little wings fluttering indignantly, lots of evil eyes.

No one says a word and they don't have to. Their disapproval is loudest in the silence.

Dorian fusses with his dress, trying very hard not to look at Bull’s sleeping form. Anyone would look ridiculous laid out under a canopy of silk, crown on their head and a single rose clutched between folded hands. And blue is most definitely not Bull’s colour!

Just common decency to avert his eyes from this pitiful display.

The Bull would do him the same courtesy.

  


+++

  


“I’m not doing it,” he insists. Fixes gloves that slipped out of place sometime during the fight. ‘ _It’s not me._ ’

With Krem still blocking the way, he has nowhere to go but closer. Bull looks pale, almost sickly. ‘ _Dying,_ ’ an unhelpful part of him provides.

“ _Fleck of colour amidst ash. Lips as red ruby roses. Can’t take my eyes off_ ,” another unhelpful voice chimes in. Except this one does it out loud and for all of them to hear. A spirit has no right to puppy eyes but that’s exactly what Dorian sees when Cole turns to him. “You can help.”

“Officially missing the time we spend in Cole’s vision. Can we go search another sea witch for him to sell his voice to?”

Dorian smoothes the vast expand of silk streaming down his hips. A strand of hair hanging into his eyes is pushed back into place. Something’s still out of place, something doesn’t sit right with him. Nothing explains this weird urge to apologize. Where is that coming from?

“ _Trapped, treasured, thoughts tripped. True trust or trusted truths? Wanting but scared. What to believe. What to believe. Down to a single petal under a heavy glass bell jar_.”

Ah.

“The Iron Bull is not a flower, Dorian!”

  


+++

  


They leave him alone after a while.

He tries the door and is unsurprised to find it barred from the other side.

The window might fit him.

  


+++

  


“I’m sorry, you know?”

He _is_.

“But that’s what you get for expecting me, of all people, to come to your rescue. Ridiculous. You are - and this is, may I remind you, a direct quote - ‘the Iron _fucking_ Bull’! Save yourself, you stupid ox! It’s what you always do. We’re not… this isn’t what we are prepared for. _I’m_ not prepared for that. I’m selfish. Pretty, pampered ‘vint who never even peeled a grape himself before. Useless.”

A disappointment. He always disappoints the ones he loves. Bad son, bad apprentice. Worse friend. Worst lover.

“How could you entrust your heart to someone like me? What were you thinking?”

  


+++

  


Dorian is straddling the Iron Bull and poking his face, pinching his nose and cheeks.

Caught in this unnatural sleep he doesn’t seem to dream, pleasant or less so. No twitching in his features that would spell out ‘ _nightmare_ ’. No grin on his lips or laugh lines around the eyes. Even, if shallow, breathing.

He takes off the eye patch, oh so carefully. Maps the terrain of Bull’s face with his finger until he gets too close to lips, cracked from dehydration. Pulls back as if stung. Slides down to move his hand over broad shoulders, collarbone. He twist a nipple through layers of blue cloth.

Can’t remember a time when he actually wanted the Iron Bull to cover his body up.

New resolve found, he brings his fingers up to Bull’s lips again and pushes past. For some reason he expected a tongue to curl around them. Maybe if he tries harder, he can convince himself that this doesn’t dismay him.

With ears pressed to a muscled chest Dorian spends the next hour listening to heartbeats.

  


+++

  


It’s not like he can lose something he doesn’t have. However...

“This is not what we were supposed to be.”

A moot point trying to deny it at this stage. Maybe they weren’t supposed to, but they _are_. And he _does_ have something, something to lose.

He is pacing.

“Honestly though, I’m scared.”

Even to an unconscious man, the confession takes courage. Dorian storms to Bull’s side and looks down upon him with equal amounts of anger and determination. He leans closer.

“If this doesn’t work, I’ll… I’ll... well, I guess you won’t care what happens then.”

  


+++

  


It does work, though.

  


+++

  


The barred door proved no match for the Iron Bull.

When the Inquisitor and party, now also including Vivienne and Solas, return to the castle they find the two lovers in the main hall, dancing.

  


+++

  


“Thank you.”

“What for exactly? For existing? For being so devilishly handsome and charming? Why yes, those accomplishments deserve all the recognition they can get. You’re welcome!”

“It’s ok. We don’t have to talk about it. Just wanted to get that off my chest, make sure that you know.”

Dorian clings to the Iron Bull. Or maybe it’s the Iron Bull clinging to Dorian. They cling to each other.

  


+++

  


“About those dresses...”

“We are _not_ keeping them!”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone want to guess what princesses the other characters got turned into?


End file.
